


A Tale Of A Dream

by 50251sid



Category: The Borgias, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt, Self-Sacrifice, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to reignite her husband's passions, Vannozza agrees to a proposition</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale Of A Dream

How long had it been? When was the last time? God, she couldn’t remember. She was much younger then. Her skin was still smooth and her dress size was smaller, but, little by little, she began to become aware that he was slipping away. A week would go by, then two weeks, then a month. Oh, he would go along if she invited him, but he would never make the first move toward her. To confirm her suspicions, she stopped making advances, and, yes indeed, she found that she was correct. He would get into bed beside her and turn his back to her and soon begin to snore. When she could no longer deny the fact, she gave up. You don’t invite someone you love to do something they obviously dislike. She recalled as a child holding her nose while downing the awful cough medicine her mother compelled her to take. That was what he had been doing. Holding his nose.

 

The weeks became months, the months became years, the years became everyday. Her soul lay in tatters.

 

To the outside, they seemed an ideal couple, a paragon, a model. Smiling, affectionate, close to their children who still came for dinner every Sunday. They grocery shopped together, worked in their garden together, attended civic meetings together, spent quiet evenings at home together. A lovely, long-married couple living out their retirement in harmony and contentment.

 

He began to get into bed with her each night, but after a few hours leave and go to sleep in the guest room. She asked him why and he really couldn’t tell her. That was always his tactic.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“I just not interested anymore.”

 

Vicky was cute. Young, in her late twenties, a little zaftig, which only made her cuter. Her hair was short and dark, her nose upturned, her voice like a chipmunk. She had two small children and she was perky.

 

Had she herself ever been perky?

 

When he approached her to tell her that Vicky had proposed a threesome, she was indignant, insulted, furious.

_Vicky_ proposed a threesome? _She_ , and not _he_?

 

But…

 

There was something in him, in his eyes...a light, an eagerness, that she had not seen in ages. Not since the early years of their marriage. He was…excited. Enthusiastic. He _wanted_ this.

 

Did she still love him? Well, she still cared enough to want him to feel. To feel something. Anything. If this is what it would take, then…

 

They chose a day when Vicky’s kids would be at nursery school and they drove over. He had showered and shaved carefully and slapped on cologne and meticulously combed his hair. He was proud of his hair. For all that it was shot through with grey, it was still thick and full, and his figure was only a little heavier than it used to be.

 

Life had not been so kind to her. And she was going to have to bare her body beside that of a young woman less than half her age, still firm and relatively unaffected by gravity and the merciless hand of Time.

 

Vicky greeted them cheerfully and offered them coffee, which she refused. Let’s just get this going, shall we?

 

Up in the bedroom, he was quivering with anticipation, like a teenager. He stripped unabashedly and peeled off Vicky’s clothing and pushed her down on the bed in seconds. His hands roamed greedily over the young body with its plump breasts and soft belly. And he kissed her. He _kissed_ her.

 

Realizing she was quite forgotten, she silently undressed and approached the bed, where her husband was lying atop another woman, having not yet entered her, but would soon.

 

She froze.

_I can’t._

She turned and left the room.

In her underwear, she sat on the living room sofa. Her mind and heart were blank.

This was a film. A movie. Not real.

 

Improbably, he had come after her. Naked, he had come downstairs looking for her.

 

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t.”

“But...”

Her pushed her gently down on the sofa and stretched out on top of her.

“Come on. Come back. I want you there.”

 

He was erect. Pressing against her, he was erect, as hard as the old days, as eager, as potent.

 

“I can’t. But you go ahead.”

“But…”

“Go on. I want you to.”

 

She realized that she had just given her husband permission to be unfaithful to her. He would go back upstairs, guiltless, blameless, and it would be at her behest. With her sanction. Her doing.

 

She sat alone, listening to the outside noises coming through the open window. Children playing, dogs barking, car horns honking. She stared, just stared, at nothing in particular.

 

After awhile, she got up and went upstairs to the bedroom.

Why did she do that? She really did not know.

 

He was on top of Vicky, pumping, panting, his back moving up and down with a vigor she had not seen him display in...how long?

 

She lay down on the bed beside them and smiled wistfully.

 

Suddenly, he emitted a loud shout. A sound, not a word. A shouted sound.

 

He stopped and then straightened up, going back on his haunches.

 

Flushed, breathless, grinning, jubilant, he announced, “I’m tired!”

 

She was not sure if he had actually finished, or had just stopped.


End file.
